A Fistful of Luck
by SolarRose29
Summary: Escaping from a Hydra base-no problem. Escaping with no equipment and missing teammates, while drugged-a little more challenging.
1. Chapter 1

Clint jolted awake, body jumping with the force of the abrupt shift from sleep to consciousness. He tumbled to the floor, arms caught beneath his chest, skull smacking painfully into the concrete. A groan managed to shove its way past the fuzzy feeling in his mouth.

"Careful."

Eyebrows furrowing, Clint slowly turned his face to the side to look at the speaker. Steve was crouched beside him, hands hovering over the archer's spine without touching. For a moment, Clint stared at Steve and Steve blinked back and neither of them spoke. Finally, Clint gathered his legs beneath him and pushed up into a sitting position.

"What are you doing here, Cap?" he questioned.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked.

Rubbing a hand over his neck, Clint explained, "I thought they took you."

"Took me?" Steve echoed, confused.

"Yeah, I thought those Hydra b-" Clint's brain caught up with his mouth and realized what he was saying. "Hydra. Albania. Strucker. " He whipped his gaze up to Steve's. "Where's Tony?"

Steve hitched his shoulders helplessly. Clint scrambled to his feet, grabbing onto the closest item to steady himself when his vision spun and his balance went with it. His fingers clenched in a thin sheet fitted over a metal table and it disturbed him to think he'd been sleeping on it.

"What is this place?" he wondered, taking note of the rest of his surroundings.

The room was small, its windowless concrete walls emphasizing its lack of size. A bare bulb hung from the ceiling, too bright in the center of the chamber, but leaving the corners in shadows. Aside from the table, there was no other furniture.

"It appears to be some kind of cell," Steve said.

"No kidding, Sherlock," Clint grumbled, attention grabbed by the metal door across from him.

Steve followed his gaze and sighed. "It's locked."

"So break it down." Clint suggested.

A raised eyebrow was the answer he received and Clint rolled his eyes. "Fine. I'll pick it."

He reached for the tools in his belt. Only to find that he was not wearing his suit, but rather a set of scrubs, identical to the kind given to patients in hospitals. "It's always creepy to find out someone else dressed you." he deadpanned. He frowned at Steve. "They left you your suit."

Steve glanced down at his uniform. "I guess so."

"You got anything useful in those belt pouches of yours?" Clint asked, already crossing the room and kneeling to inspect the lock in the door.

Steve came up behind him. "I have nothing. They must have emptied my pockets."

Clint cursed and scanned the room for anything he could use. The lack of furnishings made the table his only viable option. He inspected it carefully, and was rewarded with a loose nail, which he used to maneuver out a second one. Grinning, he showed his substitute lock pick instrument to Steve before returning to the door. Years of practice ensured that the lock stood no chance against the agent.

"Nice work," Steve complimented as they slipped into the hallway beyond the room.

"It was nothing, really. Just a simple double cylinder," Clint shrugged modestly, pleased with the praise. "Now let's find Tony and get out of this place."

They moved stealthily down the corridor, keeping alert for any sign of their Hydra captors. Clint was leading the way, choosing which turns to make based on instinct and experience with secret bases. Most of them were laid out in the same way and he hoped this one would be no different. He picked up the sound of marching boots and gestured for Steve to take cover, even as he himself ducked into the corner where two walls met. Three men appeared at the end of the hallway, black uniforms and big guns exactly as Clint expected. He held his breath, hoping they would pass by without noticing him. His luck was not that good. With a startled exclamation, one of the soldiers pointed at the escaped prisoner.

Before the man could aim his gun, Clint leaped on him, tackling him to the floor. The other guards were confused by the sudden attack and Clint lashed out, kicking their legs out from under them. One lost his hold on his weapon and it skittered across the floor. Clint eagerly picked it up. But, unwilling to make more noise and possibly alert more guards, he didn't fire it. Instead, he used it as a club, smashing it into the man's face. As he did so, the remaining soldier came up behind him, wrapping a thick arm around his throat and dragging him off the unconscious man. Clint grunted and slammed his elbow into the side of his attacker's head. The blow didn't dislodge the man, but it did loosen his hold enough that Clint could wriggle out from under it. He dropped into a crouch, spying a knife on the man's belt. He slid it free of its sheath and plunged it into the guard's chest, just as the soldier was about to shoot him. Panting, Clint pulled out the knife and wiped it clean on the leg of the man's uniform.

"This might come in handy," he told Steve. "We better get going before anyone notices they're gone." He dipped his chin at the guards.

"Right," Steve agreed, starting to jog down the corridor. He paused when Clint didn't follow. "Barton?"

Clint tilted his head to the side. "Should we leave them here?"

Steve came back and stood next to him.

"When they come to, they'll raise the alarm," Clint explained, conscience torn. "Of course, by that time, either we'll have escaped or someone else will have notice we're missing."

Steve was quiet at his side.

"But they are Hydra. If we let them live, they'll just go back to doing all the evil things they're ordered to do," Clint continued.

He looked to Steve. The captain's face was carefully neutral. "It's your call, Clint."

Clenching his jaw, Clint moved his gaze to the two slumbering soldiers. Steeling himself, he knelt and silently slid the knife across their throats. Despite his career as an assassin, it turned his stomach and he finished his unpleasant task as quickly and efficiently as possible. After cleaning the blood from the weapon, he joined Steve again.

"It feels different when they're not actively trying to kill me," he muttered softly.

"You had no choice," Steve murmured in reply.

Clint nodded briefly before shaking himself. "Alright, let's grab Stark and get out of here."

Without waiting for an answer from his companion, Clint moved past him further down the hallway. The dirty white concrete walls pressed in on them from the sides and Clint couldn't wait to see the sun again, feel it warm his skin. For several minutes, they made their way through the maze of corridors. As they passed another metal door set in the wall, Clint stopped.

"What is it?" Steve asked.

"Call it a hunch, but I feel like this is where they're keeping Tony," Clint said, unable to explain the instinctual clench in his gut that told him to check the room.

Steve accepted his proofless answer unconditionally. Clint stepped up to the door, inspecting its appearance for weaknesses.

"Geez, this place is really old," he commented, noticing the simple lock. He easily slipped the blade of the knife in the tiny crack where the door met the wall, pushing the bolt back into the lock.

The door swung open when he pushed on it. The quick grin of triumph slid off Clint's face when he walked into the room, finding Tony on a table similar to the one he had woken on. Tony's eyes were closed but when the additional light spilled in through the open doorway, he cringed.

"Stark," Clint greeted.

Tony sat up, looking dumbfounded. "How did you…?"

"Secret agent, remember?" Clint winked. "Now, unless you'd rather prolong your stay here in Hotel Hydra, I suggest you get your butt off that table and follow me."

"I would if the room would stop spinning," Tony shot back, gingerly raising his torso to a sitting position.

"You're dizzy?" Steve stepped forward, concern etched on his features.

Clint sighed. "Fine. Let me help." He pulled Tony's arm over his shoulder and got the billionaire standing.

Tony shivered in his own set of scrubs. "It's not enough they drug us and lock us up, they have to freeze us too?" he complained.

"I doubt prisoner comfort is the top priority on their list," Steve commented.

Clint snorted in agreement. "And to think, some Hydra goon saw us naked, just so they could get these on us."

Tony's expression flipped to one of horror. "That is wrong on so many levels."

Snickering at his friend's distress, Clint pulled him toward the door, Steve following behind.

"Are you hungry?" Tony randomly questioned. "Because I am. When was the last time we ate?"

Clint shrugged. "It's hard to say. It's not like there are any clocks in here."  
"I wonder how long we've been gone. If the others have started looking for us yet," Steve said.

"I don't know," Clint responded.

"Don't know what?" Tony queried, looking sideways at Clint.

"If the others are looking for us," Clint clarified.

Tony's eyebrows creased but he didn't say anything further.

They turned a corner, literally running into a guard. If it had happened to anyone else, Clint would have called the incident hilarious, like something straight out of a cartoon. But it was hard to laugh when he had to drop Tony in order to kill the soldier before he killed them. Tony hit the floor with a grunt as Clint delivered a right hook to the guard's jaw. The man stumbled back and Clint took advantage of his distraction. He swung his left hand around, plunging his pilfered knife into the man's side. The guard shouted in pain. Clint retracted the blade and stabbed it into him again. The guard tumbled bonelessly to the ground. Without wasting time, Clint bent to help Tony up. As they straightened, Clint spotted a man at the end of the corridor. They stared at each other, before the guard spun on his heel and ran in the opposite direction. Clint swore under his breath.

"Okay, we gotta pick up the pace. That guy's probably sounding the alarm right now," Clint advised.

"Which way do we go?" Tony asked.

"This way," Clint answered, heading in the same direction they'd been going.

"Is this the way out?" Tony inquired.

"I hope so," Clint muttered.

They made their way at a reasonable pace until Tony dug in his heels.

"What?" Clint questioned irritably.

"Aren't we forgetting something?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

Clint ran through a list in his mind. "I don't think so. I mean, yeah, it would be nice to have our suits and all, but I don't think we have time to go back for them."

Tony blinked, nonplussed. "Well, of course it's incredibly dangerous to let freaking Hydra anywhere near the Iron Man technology. But I was thinking of something else."

"What?" Clint asked, eyes scanning their surroundings.

"Um...our fearless leader?" Tony suggested, tone making it clear that it was something Clint should have thought of on his own.

Clint pursed his lips. "Are you okay, Tony?"

"I'm better than you apparently," Tony retorted.

"Who's carrying who here?" Clint shot back.

"At least I'm not suffering from memory loss," Tony snapped.

"What did they give you, Stark?" Clint wondered heatedly. "Cap's fine. He's right behind you."

Tony twisted his head to look over his shoulder and his eyes widened. "We've got incoming."

Grunting, Clint turned so he could see. Two guards were running at them, guns pointed straight at their chests. Thinking fast, Clint dropped to the ground, watching as Steve mimicked him, though the captain added a roll to his maneuver, ending up in a prepared crouch. Bullets whizzed through the air over their heads and Clint shoved Tony against the wall. The men continued their barrage and, wishing for his bow, Clint ground his teeth before getting into a low crouch and rushing toward them, armed with only the stolen knife. Once he was close enough, he performed a move like he was sliding into home base, slashing out with his weapon as he went. It bit through the flesh of one man's thigh and he dropped his gun to clutch at the bleeding limb. Thinking fast, Clint seized the gun and shot the injured man. Reaiming quickly, he took out the second guard. The echo of the gunshots reverberated off the walls and Clint shook his head, willing the ringing to leave his ears.

"Alright, let's keep going," he announced. He reached out a hand, pulling Tony to his feet. "Can you walk?"

"Maybe?" Tony offered.

"Make it a sprint and we'll call it even." Clint's lips twisted wryly and he hefted the large gun in his hands before taking off down the hallway.

"But-" Tony began. He huffed in frustration, left with no choice but to follow the marksman.

An alarm suddenly began blaring, the sound driving through Clint's skull and aggravating his growing headache. Grimacing, he tried to ignore it, and the deadline it implied, by focusing on finding the exit.

"We're almost there." He heard Steve's voice from behind. "Keep going, Stark."

Clint almost ran straight past another room but that same stirring in his stomach told him to stop. He assumed it was merely the place where their suits were being stored and he nearly kept going, unwilling to risk their chance at escape just to reclaim their equipment. But the tug in his gut was insistent and he growled at himself as he took up precious time unlocking the door. Steve and Tony caught up with him, the scientist taking the opportunity to brace his hands on his knees to catch his breath.

"Why are we stopping? What's in there?" Steve queried.

"I don't know," Clint replied, frustrated at his own inability to ignore his instincts.

"What are you doing, Clint?" Tony panted.

Without answering, Clint shove the door open and barreled inside, only to freeze in shock, gun falling from numb fingers.

"What is it?" Steve questioned, stepping up beside Clint.

Clint wordlessly pointed to the table in the center of the room. Where Steve Rogers was laid out, dressed in scrubs, eyes closed.

"What is it?" Tony questioned, stepping up beside Clint. He followed the archer's finger. "Oh good. You found Cap." He clapped Clint on the shoulder before crossing over to the bed and attempting to rouse the super soldier.

"H-how is this possible?" Clint stuttered.

Steve looked as bewildered as Clint felt. "I don't know."

"A little help?" Tony called irritably, glancing over his shoulder at the motionless agent.

"How can you be in two places at once?" Clint inquired, wrenching his gaze away from the Steve on the table to the one next to him.

"I don't know," Steve repeated, eyes locking worriedly with Clint's.

"Who are you talking to?" Tony questioned, straightening slowly and regarding Clint apprehensively.

"Steve," Clint answered impatiently, gesturing to his side.

Tony's eyes went where Clint had indicated before he returned his attention to the marksman's face. "Clint, there's nobody there."

"Are you blind?" Clint snapped. "Cap's right here." He reached out to grip Steve's shoulder. And his hand fell through empty air. "What the-?" he breathed.

Steve blinked at him in shock.

"Clint, what did Hydra do to you?" Tony questioned hesitantly.

Shaking his head, Clint struggled to reconcile what he was seeing. "Wait. Which one is the real you?" he asked desperately.

Steve's expression was one of helpless confusion. "Me, I think."

"Then who's that?" Clint demanded, stabbing a finger at the man on the table. "And why did my hand go right through you?"

"Okay, cupid, you're starting to freak me out," Tony informed him, watching him with concern.

Clint didn't even hear him, instead peering closely at Steve. "Why can I see you?"

"I don't know," Steve answered.

Realization dawned on Clint, and a wash of betrayal swept in after it. "I can't trust my own eyes."

"Uh, Clint? I think we have a problem," Tony cut into his thoughts as the scientist looked through the doorway. "I hear more guards coming."

Clint stretched out his hand again, watching in morbid fascination as it passed straight through the captain's chest. Steve bowed his head to watch the motion, raising it to look at Clint anxiously.

"You're not real," Clint whispered, face settling into a blank mask.

His whole body was jarred when Tony grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

"Hey, you need to pull it together or we are all going to die," Tony barked, giving his companion a shake to emphasise his point.

Clint tore his gaze away from Steve's fearful one and turned his back on the image of his friend. "Right," he agreed, gathering his resolve.

Tony looked relieved and led the way to the table. "Let's wake him up."

Clint heard the other Steve step up beside him, and fought the urge to look at him. "Whatever they gave him must have been pretty powerful if it was strong enough to overwhelm his metabolism," Clint observed, grounding himself.

"Cap!" Tony called. "Wake up!"

Clint hesitated before laying his hand on the shoulder of the man before him. A warm, physical body met his touch and his fingers curled into the fabric of Steve's shirt. The noise of rapidly approaching boots grew louder and Tony turned to scoop up Clint's abandoned weapon before positioning himself in the doorway.

"Hey, Cap. You gotta wake up," Clint murmured. "Or else I might lose my mind for good," he added dryly. The soldier's eyelids fluttered and Clint's heart jumped a beat. "That's it. Come on, Steve," he encouraged.

"Whatever you need to do, you better do it fast," Tony warned from his place as lookout.

Jolting out of his reverie, Clint realized the urgency of the situation. In the space of a second, he drew back his hand and slapped Steve across the face. Steve jerked, eyes flying open and body jackknifing upright.

"Thank goodness," Clint breathed. Louder he said, "Hey, Cap. It's good to see you." _For_ _real_ , he added in his mind.

"Where are we?" Steve wondered, looking around the room. His eyes came back to Clint and he gripped the archer's shoulder. "Are you okay?" he inquired.

Clint looked down at the actual, solid hand on his arm and nodded. "I think I am now."

"Ah, the sleeping beauty awakens," Tony greeted from across the room.

"You good, Stark?" Steve questioned, levering himself off the bed.

"Peachy. But we got a problem," Tony answered. "Five of them, actually." He tilted his head to indicate the approaching troop of guards.

Steve tensed, muscles coiling for the approaching confrontation. He crossed the room and peeked around the corner of the door frame. Pulling back, he took a deep breath.

"Ready?" he questioned Tony. When Tony shifted his weight uncertainly, the corner of Steve's mouth quirked up. "Do you want to give that to Barton?"

Tony gladly relinquished the gun to Clint's capable hands. Steve nodded in approval. He met Clint's eyes, and the archer was struck by the confidence being projected by his leader. Then Steve ducked out of the room, launching himself at the Hydra soldiers.

* * *

I do have a second chapter half written but I'm not sure I'll finish it. This chapter contained the idea I wanted to write so I don't know if I'll finish the second part. Let me know if you want a continuation (or not) and I'll move forward (or not) based on the reviews. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for all the reviews! By popular demand, here's the second chapter! :) Although, the ending was a bit rushed because I wanted to get it finished asap but hopefully it's still enjoyable.

(I used Google Translate for all the German-apologizes if it is wrong. Also, if you're curious to see what's being said, you can use that to do so)

* * *

Steve landed a solid punch to the center mass of the first man, sending him tumbling a little way down the corridor. Next, he spun on one leg, using the other to kick a second man. A third, he grabbed by the head, wrenching it at an extreme angle. That guard died instantly. When one of the others approached Steve from behind, Clint gave a shout and Steve responded to his order to drop. As soon as his line of sight was clear, the marksman took the shot, killing the man. The final guard raised his gun. Steve ducked beneath his arm, grabbing the limb and bringing it down on his shoulder as he rose from his crouch. The resulting crunch was drowned by the man's cry of pain. Steve used his hold on the broken arm to force the man to bend at the waist. Then Steve brought his knee up into the soldier's chest, driving the air from his lungs. As the man gasped, the captain repeated the action before slamming the guard's head into the concrete wall. He released the lifeless body and whirled to face his final opponent, the one he had first punched. Clint was quick to shoot the guard. But the Hydra agent was quicker, managing to squeeze off a shot before Clint killed him. The bullet whizzed through the air, piercing through the muscle of Steve's bicep. Steve grunted, his hand flying to cover the wound.

"Cap!" Tony exclaimed, rushing forward.

"I'm good," Steve insisted. "Come on, let's move."

He bent to retrieve a pistol from the belt of a dead guard and handed the weapon to Tony before leading the way up the corridor, in the direction the soldiers had come.

"Isn't the exit the other way?" Tony questioned.

Steve shook his head. "It's this way. I remember."

Tony raised his eyebrows impressed. "Good thing we're not following your directions anymore, birdbrain," he directed at Clint.

"Whatever," Clint grumbled, hurrying to catch up with Steve.

The captain moved purposefully through the base, never faltering. Tony was directly behind him, moving in Steve's shadow. Bringing up the rear, Clint guarded their backs, pointing his gun down the side corridors as they passed them, checking for enemies as they made their escape. At one point, Steve halted abruptly, causing Tony to smack into him.

"Back. Back," Steve whispered urgently, pushing Tony to retrace their steps. He corralled the scientist into a hallway that branched off from the main one, and Clint joined them without prompting.

Steve needlessly put a finger to his lips. Clint waited with baited breath, not knowing what the danger was, but trusting Steve. Finally, the rhythmic drone of marching feet entered Clint's ears and he understood Steve's actions. The three heroes stood motionless in the shadows, pressed against the sides of the passageway, praying for their presence to go unnoticed. Lines of soldiers stomped past. Row upon row, they seemed never ending. Clint stared at them, knowing that it would spell out death for him and his fellow Avengers if the battalion of troops discovered them. Just as the final line was going past, and Clint began to hope that they were safe, a guard stopped and bent to inspect the floor.

"Aufhören, kommandeur!" he called out.

Out of the corner of his eye, Clint noticed Steve's body go rigid. The leader of the band of soldiers walked back to the end of the company.

"Was ist es, soldat?" the commander questioned impatiently.

"Schau." The younger man pointed at the floor. "Blut."

The officer touched his fingers to the referenced liquid and brought his hand closer to his face to inspect the red on his glove. A cruel smile twisted his lips and his blue eyes glimmered with pleasure as he tracked the trail of blood. Clint's breath caught in his throat and sweat broke out across his forehead and slicked his palms. He glanced at his companions. Tony's pupils were huge, nearly swallowing his entire iris, and his face was pale. Steve's jaw was set, hand clenched against the wound that was still seeping blood. He slid along the wall until he was standing beside Clint and the marksman frowned when he recognized the look on the captain's face. In the hallway beyond them, the German commander was gleefully relaying the discovery of blood to the rest of his company. Clint startled when Steve leaned over and placed his mouth close to the archer's ear.

"Run!" he whispered.

Clint's hand shot out and he grabbed Steve's wrist before the super soldier could move away. "No, not without you!" he whispered back vehemently.

An unidentifiable emotion flashed through Steve's eyes at Clint's words, but it disappeared as fast as it had come.

"You can't possibly fight them all. It'd be suicide," Clint stated with absolute certainty.

For a moment, Steve looked torn. Then he sprang into action, grabbing Tony with a bloody hand and dragging the billionaire with him as he sprinted down the hallway. Clint spared only a split second on gratitude that Steve had chosen to listen to reason, rather than sacrificing himself as a distraction. In the next instant, the archer was darting after his friends. There was a shout from behind them and Clint didn't dare turn around to look at their pursuers.

Steve's guidance seemed a bit more haphazard to Clint than before. He presumed it was because Steve was now deviating from the path he remembered being brought and instead was picking their way randomly. Their run was cut off when the hallway they were in ended in a set of elevators. Without missing a beat, Steve pressed the button to summon one.

"What are you doing?" Tony asked incredulously.

"There's no time to backtrack," Steve explained. "The only way forward is up."

"We're running for our lives and you want to take a freaking elevator?!" Tony snapped.

"Unless you have a better idea," Steve retorted.

The doors opened and Steve shepherded his friends inside and punched the button for the first floor. The car shuddered, gears grinding contemptuously before finally engaging. A strange silence settled over the three of them, even as their hearts pounded and adrenaline flowed.

"So…" Tony broke it first. "What was up with you earlier, Legolas? You were having visions of the captain?"

"What?" Steve questioned, obviously confused.

"Shut up, Stark." Clint rolled his eyes.

"Is there, like, something going on between you two?" Tony inquired, mischievously wiggling his eyebrows.

"The only thing going on with me was whatever drugs Hydra forced into me," Clint answered longsufferingly.

"So you want to blame the bad guys for why you were subconsciously imagining Steve running around with you?" Tony pressed.

"You were imagining what?" Steve asked, turning to Clint.

Clint sighed. "It was just a mild hallucination." He glared at Tony. "You're lucky it wasn't anything worse. And you're welcome for the rescue, by the way."

"All I'm saying is-" Whatever Tony would have finished with was interrupted by the halt of the elevator.

Steve put out his arms, subtly placing himself between his friends and any threats that might be waiting when the doors opened. But the area around them was empty and they all stepped out of the car.

"Which way to the exit?" Tony asked.

"Over here," Steve directed, heading west.

His attention was caught by movement in the next room. He slipped to the corner and peered around the edge. Two men were loading the Avengers' equipment onto a utility cart, preparing it for transport to a different floor. Pleased with the stroke of luck, Steve rushed into the room, grabbed the two men and knocked their heads together. The unfortunate employees crumpled. Steve gathered the items off the cart and returned to where Clint and Tony were waiting. Their eyes lit up when they saw what he was holding.

"So that's where you went," Clint observed.

Tony eagerly snatched his armor from Steve. He unlocked it and grinned as it enveloped his body, pieces automatically interlocking around him protectively. "Oh yeah. There we go. This is much better," he declared appreciatively.

Clint slung his quiver onto his back, reveling in the familiar weight against his spine. He fingered his bow, gladly exchanging the stolen Hydra gun for it. He shook his head when Steve tried to hand him his suit. "There's no time. I've got what I need."

Steve shrugged and left Hawkeye's uniform on a nearby table. The only part of his own suit that he kept was his shield. He hefted it in his right arm, testing the mobility of the injured limb. With a grimace, he switched the weapon to his nondominant left.

"Let's go," he said when they were ready.

"Now that we have our stuff back, this'll be a piece of cake," Tony asserted cheerfully.

"We're not out yet," Clint reminded him.

"No one likes a pessimist, Barton," Tony returned evenly.

The rattle and clank of gears broke into their conversation, the noise of the elevator bringing their pursuers closer. Steve darted away, Tony and Clint coming after him. They ran at a good clip through the more brightly lit ground floor.

"Jarvis, get me a map of this place," Tony ordered.

"Of course, sir," the AI agreeably obliged. "There is no blueprint available in any database I have in my memory banks. Allow me to do a quick scan."

In a matter of moments, an image of the building's skeleton was displayed in Tony's hud. He looked it over, frowning in approval when he saw that Steve's instincts had been correct. They were headed in the right direction.

"Cap, there's an exit just ahead. If we keep on going through this hallway, it'll take us straight to it," he reported.

Steve stopped short.

"What is it? What's wrong?" Tony asked. "Don't you want to leave?"

Steve turned around to face him. "Going out the front isn't a good idea."

"Why not?" Tony demanded.

"For one, there will be more activity up there. More activity means more people and more people means more guns," Clint spoke up.

"And a jet would be a more preferable getaway vehicle," Steve added.

Tony considered their advice. "Okay, that actually makes sense."

"Which way to the hangar?" Steve asked.

After consulting with the map Jarvis had provided, Tony answered, "It's just a couple intersections back."

A bullet suddenly buried itself in the wall next to his head and the three Avengers spun around to find that the Hydra soldiers had caught up with them. Acting on instinct, Tony launched a missile from its place on his shoulder. It hit the ceiling in the middle of the hallway, bringing down a pile of rubble and separating them from their enemies.

"Way to go, Stark," Clint growled.

"You're welcome," Tony retorted peevishly.

"You just cut off our quickest route to the hangar," Clint snapped.

"Oh."

Steve stepped between them. "We'll figure something else out."

Still fuming, Clint whirled on his heel, choosing to face the wall.

"Tony, have Jarvis find us a different route," Steve requested.

"You heard him, J," Tony said, feeling sheepish.

"The most direct route would require going through the barracks," Jarvis informed him.

"Okay, how about the most direct route that doesn't lead to certain death?" Tony rephrased.

"The fastest alternate route is outside this building," Jarvis said.

Tony regretfully reported to Steve, "He says the fastest way inside would take us through the barracks and the second fastest way is outside."

"Outside?" Clint repeated. "Not a problem." He entered the closest room. It was an office on the furthest edge of the building, overlooking a parking area. Clint looked out the window. Satisfied with the location and the lack of Hydra goons, he selected an arrow and notched it.

"Uh...Clint? What are you doing?" Steve inquired, coming into the office.

"Getting us out of here," Clint answered nonchalantly. He released his arrow and it smashed into the window, exploding upon impact. The glass, as well as a section of the wall around it, shattered. In a split second, Steve had his shield up in front of Clint, protecting him from the worst of the shrapnel. Once the rain of rubble stopped, Steve lowered the shield and nodded at the gaping hole in the structure.

"Nice work, Barton," he complimented.

"Oh, so when I blow something up it's a mistake but when Legolas does it, it's 'nice work'?" Tony complained, being drawn into the room by the commotion.

Clint spread his hands innocently, a smirk fixed on his face. Tony grumbled under his breath and stomped past him. Once they were outside, Clint lifted a hand to shade his eyes from the sun, which still shone brightly even as it set.

"Jarvis says that's the hangar over there." Tony pointed to a large structure a hundred yards away from them.

"What do you want to do, Cap?" Clint looked to his leader. "Make a break for it?"

Brows furrowing, Steve took a moment to consider his options before he answered. "Stark, can Jarvis tell us how many hostiles there are in between us and that hangar?"

Tony snorted. "Can Jarvis tell us that?" he repeated. "You might as well ask if Brian Johnson can rock."

"Who?" Steve gave him a blank look.

Tony shook his head. "I have got to educate you."

"Stark, come on, you're wasting time," Clint said, hoping to get the inventor back on track.

"Fine, fine," Tony grumbled. "Jarvis, hit me up with a full infrared scan of the area."

The AI obediently performed the requested task and Tony let out a low whistle. "They sure don't skimp on the security here, do they?"

"What's the number?" Steve asked.

"I'm seeing a lot of yellow blobs," Tony reported.

"There are currently twenty-six Hydra soldiers between our location and the one we wish to reach," Jarvis supplied.

"Twenty-six," Tony echoed.

Steve frowned and looked at Clint.

Clint shrugged. "We could probably take them. But I'd lose a lot of arrows. And these things aren't cheap, you know."

"Money is no object when you're friends with a billionaire," Tony protested.

Steve shook his head. "I'd rather not risk a direct confrontation."

"So you want to try strolling peacefully past the guards and hope no one shoots you?" Tony questioned sarcastically.

Not bothering to answer, Steve's gaze swept their surroundings. A small smile formed on his face. He turned back to his companions. "No, I want to drive past them."

"Nice," Clint approved, looking at the row of armored trucks.

"Shotgun!" Tony called, pumping a fist in the air.

"Not unless you're planning on taking that suit off," Steve warned.

Clint smirked at the crestfallen way Tony let his hand drop. "I wouldn't count on shotgun in the jet either, since you don't know how to fly," he remarked.

Tony pouted behind the mask. "Neither does Cap."

"Yeah, but at least he can read German," Clint countered.

While they argued, Steve selected a truck and tried the handle. The door opened without protest.

"Apparently they think that just because they park their car in a secluded lot in a secret base they don't have to lock their doors," Tony said, coming up behind Steve.

Clint opened his mouth to volunteer to hotwire the truck. But before he could get a single word out, Steve hopped into the driver's seat and popped the cover off the steering column. He expertly selected the correct bundle of wires and separated the battery wires from the ignition and starter wires. After stripping an inch of insulation from them, Steve twisted the battery wires together. Next, he took the ignition wire, stripped it in the same way and added it to the battery ones. Lastly, he stripped the starter wire and cautiously sparked it against the other ones. The truck coughed, sputtered, and roared to life. He revved the engine a few times to ensure that it didn't stall. Once he was finished, he leaned back in the seat and it was then that he noticed Clint's astonished expression and Tony's stunned silence.

"What?" he shifted self-consciously.

"Did Captain America just steal a car?" Tony asked in disbelief.

"Uh-huh," Clint confirmed, dumbfounded.

Steve rolled his eyes. "I'm not stealing it. I just hot wired it so we could drive the to the hangar. We'll leave it there."

"And steal a jet," Clint finished.

Unable to argue against the truth, Steve grimaced. "Just get in."

"Iron Man in the back," Clint reminded brightly.

"Why?" Tony whined.

"Because you're easily recognized," Steve answered.

"So are you," Tony returned.

"But not as much as you. If you were in the front seat, your armor would give us away before we got anywhere near the jets," Steve said.

"And you think they won't recognize you?" Tony asked.

Steve shrugged a shoulder. "Hopefully they won't get close enough to. Here," he moved over. "Barton, you drive."

Clint climbed into the cab and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "All aboard, Stark."

Grumbling under his breath, Tony reluctantly got into his assigned seat. Clint put the truck into the correct gear and began pulling out of the parking space. The transmission jolted, causing all three men to wince.

"They just don't make armored trucks like they used to," Tony grumbled.

After a couple of experimental moments, Clint caught the feel of the truck, adapting to its weight, the acceleration and brakes, how far to turn the steering wheel. Once he was satisfied, he pointed it in the direction of the hangar at the far end of the lot.

"Where's the runway?" Steve muttered, glancing out the window as much as he could while leaning back to minimize the chances of being spotted.

"What?" Tony asked.

"We should figure that out now to save time later," Steve explained.

"I think it's over there." Clint gestured beyond the right side of the hangar building.

"Look out," Steve warned quietly. "We've got company."

A patrolman was casually strolling the lot and once he caught sight of the truck, he began walking toward it, raising his hand to flag it down.

"What do we do?" Tony questioned.

"Pretend we don't see him," Clint answered, maintaining his speed and current course.

When his hand motion garnered no response, the guard moved to stand in the path of the truck. With a curse, Clint slowed the truck to a halt.

"That's a little harder to ignore," Tony muttered.

As the Hydra soldier moved around to the driver's side door, he spun his fingers in a motion to indicate that the window should be rolled down, even as he pulled a notebook from his pocket.

"Here goes nothing," Clint said under his breath as Steve ducked beneath the dashboard.

The patrolman's head was bent over his book, flipping through the pages.

"Guten morgen," Clint cheerfully greeted.

"Wohin gehst du? Was sind deine befehle?" the man inquired, sounding bored.

"Uh…" Clint glanced to Steve.

"Nur eine schnelle lieferung," Steve whispered.

"What?" Clint's eyebrows furrowed.

Steve repeated himself, loud enough for the soldier to hear. With his eyes on his paper, the guard didn't notice anything amiss.

"Was ist das lieferung?" the man questioned.

"Munitions," Steve answered.

The guard frowned and consulted his notes. "Ich sehe es nicht geplant. Wer hat es autorisiert?"

He finally looked up and his eyes immediately narrowed, mouth opening. In a flash, Clint grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his head against the door. The man slumped and Clint hopped out of the car.

"What are you doing?" Tony hissed.

"Getting rid of potential witnesses," Clint ground out, opening Tony's door and stuffing the body into the empty seat.

"Ew!" Tony shrieked and scooched as far away from the soldier as possible, squishing himself up against the window.

"Relax, he's not dead. Just unconscious," Clint reassured.

"Come on, we need to keep going," Steve urged. "We're already drawing attention."

Tucking a limp hand into the seat to avoid smashing the fingers, Clint hurriedly finished his task before reclaiming the driver's position. He glanced out the windshield and was dismayed to find a knot of soldiers all looking in their direction. The men talked amongst themselves, pointing occasionally to the vehicle.

"This doesn't look good," Clint muttered.

Apparently reaching a conclusion, the five Hydra soldiers marched purposefully toward them, rifles in hand.

"Time to go," Clint announced, no longer bothering to be subtle.

He revved the engine in warning before throwing the truck into gear and stomping on the accelerator. The vehicle lurched forward, growling like a cranky lion.

"Um, Barton? Are you planning on stopping?" Steve asked, nervously eyeing the rapidly disappearing distance between the front of the truck and the gathered soldiers.

"Nope," Clint answered candidly. "You might need to brace yourself."

Trusting his teammate, Steve resisted the urge to grab the wheel and yank on it to pull them off their present collision course. Once they realized the truck barreling toward them had no intention of slowing, the Hydra soldiers scattered, diving out of the way.

"Just a little farther," Clint promised, pushing harder on the gas.

Behind them, the guards regained their feet and opened fire. Bullets spattered the truck, sounding like a shower of hail. One smashed through Tony's window, spraying him with broken glass, and thunked harmlessly against his suit. Steve's head whipped around, wide eyes staring into the glowing blue gaze of the Iron Man mask.

"Good thing I came dressed for the occasion," Tony managed to chuckle.

Clint's swearing brought Steve's head around again. He didn't like what he saw. The word was spreading about the escaping prisoners. The doors to the hangar were being closed, while troops poured out of the surrounding buildings. Bullets peppered the truck, flying at the heroes like a swarm of deadly insects.

"Okay, now you really need to brace yourself," Clint advised, laying on more speed.

The truck growled again, reluctantly obeying. Swerving around a pile of crates, Clint aimed the front of the vehicle at the vanishing crack between the two doors.

"Here we go," he breathed, eyebrows drawing together as he began the dangerous maneuver.

"Jarvis, what are my chances of survival?" Tony inquired in a feeble voice.

Before the AI could run the calculations, Clint let out a wild whoop and launched the truck through the narrow opening. The earsplitting screech of metal on metal could be heard as the closing doors scraped against the sides of the moving automobile. The contact caused the truck to veer and Clint wrenched the wheel to avoid smashing into the interior wall of the hangar. He braced himself against the seatback as the truck slid into a wild spin, tires skidding helplessly across the concrete floor. The side of one of the many jets lined up inside the hangar stopped their momentum, the impact throwing the Avengers forward in their seats. Steve was the first to recover. He shoved open his door and climbed out.

"Stark, Barton. Come on, hurry!" he called.

Clint opened his door and wobbled on shaky legs, trying to push aside the effects of the crash. He blinked a few times and watched as Steve leaped on a nearby pilot. The captain and the Hydra soldier crashed to the ground, where Steve slammed his fist into the man's jaw. Once the soldier stopped moving, Steve scrambled to his feet and pointed at the nearest undamaged jet.

"That one. Get in!" he ordered.

Clint and Tony were quick to obey. They climbed into the jet, Clint claiming the pilot's seat. He scanned the panel in front of him, taking in the variety of knobs, buttons, switches and gauges. Recognizing some of the more basic functions, he began prepping the small plane for take-off. Tony slipped into one of the chairs further back, anxiously leaning forward.

"Almost got it," Clint announced.

"Where's Cap?" Tony muttered.

Clint glanced out the cockpit window before redirecting his gaze to his task. "It looks like he's trying to open the hangar doors."

Tony stood up.

"Where are you going?" Clint questioned.

"You were wrong, Barton," Tony said. "I can fly." He gestured to his suit. "I'll meet you in New York."

Without further explanation, he jumped down and sprinted over to join Steve. Clint watched them through the glass. They exchanged a few words before Steve clapped Tony on the shoulder and then raced over to the jet. He leaped into it and got in the co-pilot's chair.

"We have to be ready to go as soon as those doors open," he said.

"We are," Clint assured him, slowly guiding the jet from its spot and aiming it at the doors. "Come on, Stark," he murmured under his breath.

A minute later, Tony succeeded. The two door slid open and a flood of Hydra troops rushed in, opening fire on their prisoners. Tony immediately took to the air, hovering above the soldiers and picking them off one by one. Clint pushed the jet forward, taxing out of the hangar, forcing Hydra's men to scatter. He rolled the plane out onto the runway, rapidly gathering speed. Their escape was swift, leaving no opportunity for their enemies to gather the proper equipment to stop them. As they lifted off into the air, Steve adjusted a knob on the panel before glancing behind them.

"I wish there was a way we could communicate with Stark," he said.

Clint raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

"I'd tell him to destroy the other jets to make sure we aren't followed," Steve answered.

"Hey there, everyone. Did you miss me?" Tony's voice interrupted their conversation.

"What the-?" Clint surveyed the equipment in front of him for the source.

"I know. Jarvis's hacking skills are awesome," Tony bragged.

"Stark, you have to stop the other planes from following us," Steve ordered.

"I'm on it," Tony said.

While Steve strained to see behind them, watching Tony's progress, Clint steered them westward, toward America.

"New York, here we come," he said, smirking.


End file.
